


Deep Water

by Kitt_Katt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence -The Goblet of Fire, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Multi, Possession, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-26 02:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitt_Katt/pseuds/Kitt_Katt
Summary: Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed as he moved his hand away from the scar he had given the boy so many years ago, realization hitting him along with waves of frustration and annoyance. Harry was grateful for the few seconds of relief that followed, sucking in deep gulps of air as he tried to see through blurred vision. Head still throbbing but he could push through it for now; though his ears were still ringing from his own screams. In one quick motion he was released from the gravestone he was pinned to. Falling hard, Harry's brain sparked into survival mode; trying to frantically search for his wand on the ground as his heart pounded violently in his chest. That was when a silver light hit him, throwing him back before he was immobilized. The last thing he heard before he was knocked out was Voldemort's cruel and haunting voice, "change of plans."





	Deep Water

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be my first long fic with multiple chapters. The idea for this came through and RP thread but due to personal things going on in my life I'm taking a break from RP. To keep on writing and am going to be doing fics instead. 
> 
> I tend to think faster than I can type so if there are grammar or spelling mistakes I am always open for a quick and friendly correction and if you have any ideas on how this fic might progress I am more than willing to take suggestions. 
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

A pair of green eyes slowly opened from sleep, glancing around the small cell as if there was something new to see besides the dismal, grey concrete walls that surrounded him; but of course he wasn't disappointed to see not a single change in the environment. These walls were now a constant in his life, as familiar to him as breathing that sometimes he forgot about how things used to be. Of the cozy bed he once nestled in in Gryffindor tower, even better still, his cousin Dudley's second bedroom he was given when he resided with the Dursley's. Number Four Privet Drive would be a welcome sight after the last five years locked away under the watchful eye of Voldemort's dutiful Death Eaters. 

The small mattress he now laid on was lumpy but far better than the stone ground around him, the blanket pulled snug around him kept him warm enough for all the holes it bared. Harry let a small sigh slip out through his nose as he tried to absorb himself back into sleep but now awake, every small sound kept him alert and on edge once more. He clung to sleep nowadays as much as he possibly could. At least when he was lost in sleep he could forget about what was going on around him. Ignore the smell of blood and sweat from the other prisoners in the cells around him. Ignore their enervated crying and pleading for a hope that would never come. Ignore the time that passed him by in years he couldn't recall and ignore the ache in his chest for the loved ones he missed. More important, he could ignore the pain in the abandonment he felt. No one had come for him, not even an attempt to secure his freedom had been made and it broke him inside; if not allowed an underlying rage to fill and poison his mind.

It left him pliant and Harry felt sick at the very idea that a bond had developed with some of his captors. This grotesque psychological alliance that was once to ensure his survival and perhaps an attempt at escape but now brought him a small measure of comfort.

In the beginning he had held out, his will strong and knowing with complete certainty that someone would come for him. His absence would surely be noted by all, of those important in his life and even those who just knew him by the scar on his forehead. 

Harry's first vision of a rescue was Professor Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore would certainly set out to find him. Crashing through the metal door, all powerful yet that warm, sincere smile would be given. Harry had imagined a thousand different scenarios, each kept him hopeful, kept that fire burning within him for a miracle. Of Dumbledore defeating Voldemort. Sometimes Sirius was flanking him along with his surrogate parents Arthur and Molly Weasley. Other times he imagined his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, saving the day. Perhaps they thought him dead. Him, along with Cedric Diggory; both who never walked out of that maze and disappeared without a trace.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried to escape. Many of the Death Eaters didn't bother with the Imperius curse; at first Harry could resist it to a degree before he was able to throw it off completely. Voldemort had forbade them from using the Cruciatus curse on him, especially when Harry began to figure out and exploit the connection between them. Yet it was that very connection, the part of Voldemort's soul that lived within Harry that kept him from escaping. No matter how many times he plotted or schemed a way to escape the Dark Lord was always there. Secrets didn't remain secret for very long and Harry was always taken back his cell.

Harry was the horcrux Voldemort never intended to make but for as much as he wanted Harry dead he wouldn't dare harm him now. No, not after that night in the graveyard. A night Harry thought he would for sure be his last as he watched in horror as Voldemort returned to physical form. Those years of luck were over and he expected death to claim him but something else had happened. Something neither he nor Lord Voldemort could have anticipated. 

_\--_

_Voldemort’s red eyes narrowed as he moved his hand away from the scar he had given the boy so many years ago, realization hitting him along with waves of frustration and annoyance. Harry was grateful for the few seconds of relief that followed, sucking in deep gulps of air as he tried to see through blurred vision. Head still throbbing but he could push through it for now; though his ears were still ringing from his own screams. In one quick motion he was released from the gravestone he was pinned to. Falling hard, Harry's brain sparked into survival mode; trying to frantically search for his wand on the ground as his heart pounded violently in his chest. That was when a silver light hit him, throwing him back before he was immobilized. The last thing he heard before he was knocked out was Voldemort's cruel and haunting voice, "change of plans."_

_\--_

Harry would come to realize just exactly what he was, or rather what was within him over the next few months after the graveyard. Being kept paralyzed or sedated while they were on the move; hearing whispers around him or even just in his head. The word Horcrux was never uttered until much later, but still Harry knew. He was tainted, infected and defiled from the part of Voldemort that was within him. Once he knew, escaping became irrelevant. The only escape he would find would be in death and it would never be granted to him.

Sitting up he rubbed at his eyes, reaching down on the floor beside his mattress and picking up his glasses. One of the lenses was cracked along the bottom but they were still mostly functional. Besides, even though he held importance to Voldemort he wasn't granted any liberties. It was about keeping him alive and contained, not about his comfort. So even a simple spell to repair his glasses was ignored. 

The small flap at the bottom of the door slid open and his one meal for the day slipped through before shutting again. No exchange of words, not a single change in routine. Grabbing the handle of the wooden tray he pulled it close. Two sausages, along with a pile of mash and turnips sat atop the plate, two water bottles were also given along with a spoon. No sharp objects were allowed again, not after his sixth escape attempt which consisted of mainly stabbing a Death Eater in the shoulder with a dessert knife.

Before eating he took the spoon off the tray and stood. Walking over to the wall opposite his bed where the toilet sat, he pressed the tip of the handle into the stone wall above, ( _which was quite old and brittle_ ) and scratched a tick into the wall along with the 1, 938 others. Letting out a sigh he came back to his meal, eating slowly throughout the day and carving symbols into the walls. Nearing nighttime three knocks would come at his door and he would slide the now empty tray, save for the water, back near the flap and someone would take it away. It's probably the only human interaction he would get in a day.

Laying back down he glanced up at the ceiling, trying to imagine an inky black sky full of bright stars instead of dusty, concrete rock. Tried to imagine he was simply lying back in his bed at Hogwarts, tried to imagine how Hermione and Ron would smile when they saw him again; imagining happiness outside of this small cell that was his life.

Yet as he took off his glasses and turned to his side, the part of him that still wanted to be hopeful ( _the barely glowing ember_ ), extinguished. 

No one was coming for him, and he just had to accept that fact, once and for all. 

There were no tears. He didn't know how to cry anymore, everything was just empty and cold as he closed his eyes. 


End file.
